All The Little Ways
by Flame-Hazel-18
Summary: AU Destiel: Dean never knew his father. He works in a bar on the bad side of town to protect the family he has left. Castiel's parents split up when he was young, leaving him wondering what true love and protection feels like. The two scarred men find strength in each other after a seemingly normal Friday night becomes something more. Rating might change as I continue writing.


Dean Winchester was born on a Tuesday. To most people it passed at the same rate as every other day of every other week of their lives. But to their mother it seemed like it was Tuesday for at least a month. A solid 22 hours of labor can do that to a person.

Castiel Austen was born on a Friday afternoon. He came out quickly, ready to face the world. His four older sisters, all under the age of ten, wouldn't stop poking at him in his plastic hospital crib, curious about the new addition to their family.

Dean was born to a single mother named Mary. His father was a high school Literature teacher who skipped town when his senior student showed up for class one day with a noticeably swollen belly.

Castiel's parents were high school sweethearts. His father, Levi, was a lawyer and his mother, Catherine, spent her days chasing after their five children.

Dean's mother worked at clothing store where Dean spent his childhood doing his school work in the back offices. Mary kept many boyfriends for short periods of time. None lasted more than a few months.

Castiel's parents were married for 17 years before Catherine could no longer ignore that Levi had been screwing his secretary, Vivian, for the past three. There was a lot of yelling and crying after that.

Dean was six when his mother became pregnant again. He didn't understand what that meant, or why his mother suddenly became prone to crying and always seemed sick. Dean met a man named David a few times, and his mother said that David would be helping out after his little brother was born. Dean didn't like David. When Sam was born, Dean was fiercely protective of him, refusing to let David hold him. Dean couldn't say he was too disappointed when David became just a name on a check in the mail every month.

When Castiel was young, he told his mother that he wanted a little brother. When his mother asked him why and didn't he think the house was full enough already, he said he wanted someone to take care of like his big sisters took care of him. Catherine smiled sadly when she told him no, and said that when he was older, he would understand.

Dean watched Sam all through his childhood, every night while his mother was working. Mary tried to put Sam in day care in the afternoons so Dean could peacefully do his school work, but Dean wouldn't let Sam go away with strangers, where he couldn't protect him. Mary gave up. Dean read his school books to Sam, and Sam knew how to read before he went to kindergarten.

Castiel's mother taught him how to read by giving him the recipe books, and having him choose what they would make for dinner. He tried to take one of his father's books off of the shelf to read, but it was too heavy for his little hands. His parents took him to the hospital, and he got four stitches above his left eyebrow where the book hit him.

Dean's mother told him about his father when he was nine. He asked too many questions for his mother to hide it anymore. Mary tried to help Dean track down his father for years, but he obviously didn't want to be found. He gave up when he was eleven. They didn't talk about him again.

Castiel's sisters called him Cassy and dressed him up like a little girl until he was eight and didn't fit anymore. He didn't mind too much, as long as it made them happy. The three sisters left at home when the divorce came, just after Castiel's twelfth birthday, decided to live with their mother. Castiel decided to take one for the team.

Dean played baseball in high school. He bought a used mitt at a Play-It-Again sports shop with the money from his mother he saved by only eating lunch once a week. He gave it to Sam when he wanted to practice, Dean threw and Sam ran the ball back to him. Dean was a strong left-fielder and made varsity as a sophomore. Mary always managed to pull strings and beg favors: she and Sam never missed a game.

Castiel ran track all in high school. He liked the solitary aspect of the sport. He always ran the long races that most of the other runners didn't want to do. He got lost in running. His father and Vivian never came to a meet. Castiel never asked them to. His coach walked with him across the field to receive his Senior Night awards at his last meet.

Dean still lived with his mother and Sam after he graduated. He got a job as bartender, at a dive called Ruby's, to help pay the bills while Sam was still in school. The place was so shady that no one seemed to care that the man serving drinks was too young to consume them, as long as he was willing to work for less than minimum wage.

Castiel lived with his father and Vivian from seventh grade until graduation. Then he went to Kansas States with all the money his father was constantly throwing at him, trying to make up for tearing apart their family. Castiel drove from his father's house in Holt, Michigan to Kansas in the new sporty car his father had given him, then wrecked it and bought a motorcycle.

Dean saved tips and birthday money for years, then used it to buy a broken down '67 black impala. He got a second job at a car repair shop, with the understanding he would be allowed to use the place after hours to fix up his car. The men Dean worked with shook their heads, wondering why he bothered with that broken down piece of shit anyway. But Dean saw something more in the car.

Castiel begrudgingly lived off of his father's money all through college. He worked odd jobs around campus but his employers could never handle his, in their words, "equally dull and irritating" personality for long. He lived with one of his sisters during breaks from school. He called his mother every week, as he had done since she had moved out. He visited her in Arizona for every major holiday.

Dean's mother insisted that he move out when he turned 22. Between the two of them, they had enough to get Dean a small apartment by the car shop. He still sent her the money he had left over after he paid his bills every month, even when she protested. Sam was a straight A junior in high school with a chance of getting an academic scholarship, his only chance at going to college. Dean didn't want his brother's future to go down the toilet because he had to work to support himself and his mother.

Castiel didn't have many friends. Or any friends, really. He spent more time with the owner of the apartment building where he lived, an elderly woman named Johanna, then with anyone his own age. Johanna loved to talk about her husband who had passed away several years previously. Castiel liked to just sit and listen.

Dean's "friends" were limited to his brother and Garth, who worked at the bar. Garth was a strange kid, and the other guys would make fun of him a lot. Dean did his best to keep Garth happily ignorant of their mockery.

Castiel's sisters called him at least once a week. They talked endlessly about jobs and husbands and boyfriends. When his eldest sister, Hillary, had her first child, Castiel left school for a week to play with the new baby boy they called Kevin.

When Dean came home from work one night, there were several messages from Sam on his machine, asking him to call back as soon as he could. When Dean finally did, Sam told him he had received a full-ride scholarship for his freshman and sophomore years at Wichita State. After an hour of excited chatter from Sam, the brothers finally ended their call. Dean felt intense pride for his younger brother. He cried a lot that night, realizing that Sam had a chance to do all the things Dean never could. Dean was grateful.

Castiel didn't have any kind of relationships outside of intoxicated sex after parties on campus he wasn't invited to. None of them stuck around the morning after. He preferred to be alone anyway.

In his few and far between free moments, Dean fixed up his car. Most weekend nights, he brought a lonely, drunk girl home from the bar after his shift. Sometimes, if they were still capable of making somewhat intelligent decisions, he slept with them. If they weren't, he tucked them in to his bed and slept on the couch, feeling better knowing they were safe with him and not with some of the creeps he served nightly. Either way, he always cooked breakfast in the morning.

Castiel's mother died during his fifth year as an undergraduate student at Kansas State. She had been silently fighting breast cancer for almost a year. He held his four older sisters while they cried at the funeral, as his eyes refused to water in front of strangers. His father suddenly became too fascinated by his job to answer the phone. But that was okay, because Castiel never called anyway.

Friday October 14th, 2005 felt like a normal day for Dean. He was working five until close at the bar to make up for the time he had taken off recently to visit Sam at college. Sam loved it there, but Dean could tell he was still unsure of being away from his family, even though he would never admit it. Mary told Dean that Sam called every night when she got off work, just to check in on her. Dean worried Sam wasn't making friends…but Dean was always worried about his family.

When he got to the bar that night, it was almost empty. There was one of their regular customers sitting at the bar, nursing a large glass of beer that was already almost empty. The only other patrons were two tourists sitting at a table in the corner eating dinner. Dean could tell they were tourists because everyone who lived in the city knew not to eat the food here.

When he got to the counter, he asked the man, George, if he wanted a refill. George's face lit up as he slurred "Dean! Been waitin allllll night furyah! Anna s'left again, the bitch even taken our cat this time!"

Dean smiled sympathetically as he filled another glass. "I told yah Georgie, she's nothing but bad news." He said, handing over the drink. George toasted toward him.

"I'll drink to that!" And so he did.

Dean listened to George drunkenly moan about his girlfriend until business started to pick up. Then he tried to empathize to the woes of every other drinker in the bar. Having worked as a bartender at Ruby's for three years, he knew all the usual criminals. He knew who's kid's were deadbeats and who's wife's were sleeping around. He liked to listen to the customers, and offer his advice when he had it, and not just because it got him bigger tips and the bar more traffic. He liked being around people, talking to them, feeling like he touched their lives in some small way. But he would never tell anyone that.

Garth showed up at nine to help with the busiest hours, so Dean took a quick break to walk George home. George had been coming to the bar long before Dean had started working there, but he instantly took a liking to him. George lived in the apartments just down the road from the bar, and Dean often walked him home when he deemed the older man too drunk to be left alone. Tonight, George had fallen asleep with his head on the bar almost an hour before, and it was certainly time for him to go home.

After Dean got him settled, he took his time walking back to the bar. It was a brisk evening, and it felt good to be outside in a t-shirt. When he was almost to the door, he heard a motorcycle zipping down the street. It screeched in to the parking lot next to Ruby's, barely keeping even one tire on the ground. Dean rolled his eyes, muttering "asshat", and went back to work.

Friday, October 14th, 2005 was Castiel's first night back in town after going to Arizona for the funeral. He felt like shit because it had only been a week since he got the call about his mother's death and he didn't even have it in himself to be sad. He didn't even feel guilty; mostly he just felt numbness in some deep down part he couldn't quite get to. So, he decided to do what he always did: drink. Drink until the numbness in his body was over-ruled by the buzzing in his head and he could barely even remember what he was drinking for.

Castiel knew none of the usual campus bars would be good enough tonight. There would be too many students making too much noise drinking too fruity drinks, and he just wasn't up for that. Not tonight.

So he revved up his bike and headed to the lower part of town. There was a place down there called Ruby's he always heard jokes made about. He figured that, after five years of nearby residency, it was about time he have a drink there.

Maybe several drinks.

When he pulled in to the parking lot, he was going much too fast. The letters on the sign out front were so typically not all lit, and he almost drove right past. He chained his bike to the fence between the back of the bar lot and what appeared to be a trailer park. On any other night, he would've driven away. It wasn't worth losing his bike to try some little dive of a bar, but his mind was already intoxicated by the promise of intoxication to come and so he went inside.

Castiel took a stool at the bar, only briefly noticing that the seat was a bit sticky. The bartender was speaking to a woman a few stools down who looked like she was likely a hooker, so he sat quietly with his elbows on the counter and his shoulders slouched forward, waiting to be noticed.

Soon enough the bartender glanced over, and excused himself from his current conversational partner. He approached with a sort of swagger that told Castiel he had spent enough time behind that counter to make himself at home.

"What's your poison?" He asked Castiel, smiling in a friendly way.

Castiel frowned in return. "That is not a good advertising technique. Calling it poison."

The bartender stared disbelievingly for a moment, then laughed, decided it was a joke. "Alright buddy, whatever you say. What'll it be?"

"Bourbon, please. And my name is Castiel."

The man poured the drink. "I'm Dean. Haven't seen you around here, Castiel. New in town?"

Castiel shook his head, taking a long draw from the glass. "Just decided to slum it for the night I guess."

Dean smiled, nodded, and moved on to the next customer. Castiel didn't seem one for friendly conversation.

The bar filled to its bursting point – which wasn't that many people, the place was very small – and it became almost impossible to hear. Friday nights were always the loudest.

Dean and Garth worked side by side without speaking until the crowds started clearing out at around eleven. Most people didn't want to be caught out too late in this part of town.

As the place emptied, Garth began telling Dean about the cat he found in his house this morning. Dean tried to listen, but he found his mind kept wandering back to Castiel, sitting alone on the left end of the bar. He was nearing the end of the drink he had in hand, and Dean wandered down to fix it. Garth continued happily on with his mystery cat story, either not noticing Dean had left, or not caring.

"Fill yah up?" He asked, Castiel nodded glumly. Dean took the mug and tried again at conversation: he wasn't used to people in the bar not wanting talk to him. He didn't like it.

"So what's your story Cas? Can I call you Cas?"

Castiel's voice sounded very gruff, but clearer than Dean would've expected, having been here for several hours.

"I suppose if you cannot suffer through all three syllables, Cas is fine."

"Uhh…Right." Dean paused uncertainly. "So why're you here? Girlfriend sleeping around? Girlfriend find out you're sleeping around?"

Castiel was quiet, considering the man before him. Dean wanted to be liked, wanted to be friendly with everyone. He was the worst kind of people, the ones that were constantly disturbing Castiel's peace, that drove him to a place like this, just to avoid them.

So Ruby's was a bust.

"Cancer," he replied at length. "Cancer is what brought me here tonight."

Dean's eyes went soft around the edges and he bit his lip, kicking himself for pushing the stranger who clearly didn't want to talk to him.

"Shit, sorry I didn't mean to pry–"

"But clearly you did. And you have now gotten your answer so please make yourself scarce."

Dean tried to do as he asked, but instead ran in to Garth, who had approached some time during their conversation.

"Hey, this guy bothering you, Dean?" Garth said in a hushed voice. He looked comically small and lanky with his fists balled and his chest pushed outward, but Dean appreciated the gesture.

"Nah it's fine. I think was bothering him." Dean pushed gently past Garth to a woman who had just arrived. He waved in greeting to her. Her name was Meg, she came in often on Friday's when her boss at a little diner up the street made her work the late shift.

Dean spoke to everyone who came in, and chased out a few teenagers trying out the worst excuses for fake IDs he had ever seen. Around two everyone but Castiel had gone, even Garth had finished washing the tables and headed out. Dean tried for the fourth or fifth time to get him to leave.

"Well I think it's about time to call it a night…" Again, no response. Finally he gave up, grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge in the dark kitchen, and sat a few stools down from the mysterious cancer man.

After several moments of silence, Castiel spoke. "You want me to leave."

Dean winced, unsure of how to respond. "Well, I can't say that I want to stay here all night. But I can't exactly order you around. You're an adult and…" He stopped, realizing he couldn't really say that out loud…

But Castiel said it for him. "And because you think I have cancer." Dean shrugged and took a swig from his beer. "I do not have cancer. I just came from my mother's funeral, she has cancer." He coughed, "had."

Dean nodded, not knowing what to say. Not because he didn't feel terrible for the man, but because he knew he couldn't carry on talking if he let himself think about his own mother's future funeral. And so they continued on in silence until Castiel finished his drink and headed for the door. He walked very steadily, but Dean was still nervous about letting him go. Still, by the time Dean wiped the last part of the counter and shut off the lights, he was pulling out of the parking lot on his motorcycle. So Dean tried to put Castiel out of his mind. But he couldn't help but be intrigued, and wonder if the man would come back to Ruby's again.

Dean loving patted his impala as he strode to the driver's side door. He started his baby up and headed home, contemplating his strange night.

Until it got stranger. A few blocks from Ruby's, there was a motorcycle near the shoulder of the road. It was laid out on its side, the driver nowhere in sight. He turned the corner and eased into a parallel parking spot. He grabbed his pocketknife out of the glove compartment before getting out. Gangs around here were known for even more impressive stunts to get someone alone on the street at night.

When he got to the bike, he dragged it up to the curb, hoping no one would drive over it. As he looked around, he saw a figure sitting on the steps up to the doorway of a long forgotten bank. He moved cautiously. "Hey, you alright there?"

"It seems I am too intoxicated to be operating a motor vehicle," came a familiar voice from the shadows.

Dean's eyebrows flew to his hairline. "Cas?" He moved closer to the steps, and sure enough, there sat the strange man from the bar. He had a large cut on his forehead, bleeding down his face, and he was holding his right arm in his left, pressing it to his chest.

"Unfortunately you appear to be correct."

"Shit, Cas. Why didn't you just call a car?" Dean said, nervously running his fingers through his hair.

"I would have, but I spent all of the money I had on hand drinking." Cas tried to stand up, then winced and grabbed his ankle as he sat back down.

"I'll call an ambulance," Dean reached into his pocket, then realized he'd left his cell phone in his car. It was a good thing this wasn't a set up for a mugging…

"I think if I went to the hospital, I may be arrested. Considering drinking and driving is illegal. However, I would greatly appreciate if you could place me back on my bike…"

"No," Dean shook his head. "No you're not driving, you already crashed once. I'll take you home."

Castiel laughed. "I am not leaving my bike on a street like this."

"Fine, I live right up this street. You can clean up and sleep it off there." Castiel nodded uncertainly and Dean helped to haul him up off the pavement. Once Castiel had been coerced in to the passenger side of the impala, Dean too the key to the motorcycle, locked the doors, and drove the bike to his apartment's parking lot.

The bike road smoothly, the engine roared when he accelerated and the seat vibrated to show off its power. It was nice, but Dean still preferred his car.

By the time he got the impala and the bike safely parked and Cas up the narrow staircase to the fourth floor, it was almost three-thirty. He half-dragged Castiel through his door, flipping on the lights as they entered. They both squinted in the new harsh light, and Dean felt slightly embarrassed by the mess that stretched from the kitchen/living room in the front all the way into the small bedroom and bathroom behind it.

He took Cas in to his room, helping him sit on the bed, then went to his bathroom to find disinfectant and bandages. He kept both well stocked, as it was not unheard of for him to come home from the car shop with a cut or burn of some kind. Or from the bar, after being caught in the cross-fires during one of Ruby's bi-weekly brawls.

By the time Dean returned to the bedroom a few minutes later, Castiel had already fallen asleep. Dean sighed, then gently washed the cut on his forehead with peroxide, covered it with a band-aid, and put a tall glass of water next to the bed. Cas didn't even stir, and Dean wondered again exactly how many drinks he'd had that night.

Dean kept a few spare blankets and a pillow in a box behind the couch for nights like tonight. He made up the couch and curled up. As he was drifting off to sleep, it briefly occurred to him that this was the first time he'd ever let another man sleep in his home. Maybe it was because Dean craved affection from the women he let sleep in his home, or maybe it was because he was predisposed to be mistrusting of men due to his past. But the thought was fleeting, and Dean filed it away to deal with in the morning, and finally fell asleep.

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**A/N: **Wellllllll...What do you think? Send me a review if you like it, don't like it, have suggestions, or just want to say hi! (:


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